I Am The Game's Villain

Chapter 730: [Final Event] [Blood Moon Festival] [12] Percy’s Decision

”The city is really beautiful...” Amelia murmured in quiet awe, her green eyes flicking from one bright corner to another. ”Don’t you think so, Celes?” She asked, glancing at Celeste, who walked beside her. The two had somehow ended up in the same group for the stroll through Ravenia’s capital.

But Celeste wasn’t listening.

Her gaze drifted over the lively streets, searching—hoping—for someone among the crowds.

Above them, the sky stretched out in a shade of twilight, heavy and dark as always, though this peculiar week carried a faint crimson hue that bled across the moon like a bruise. The eerie light gave the city an otherworldly glow, as if Ravenia itself pulsed with life.

And in a sense, it did.

The capital was bursting with energy. Laughter and music spilled from taverns and plazas, lanterns floated in the air like glowing spirits, and banners of every color lined the streets. It was festival week—an event that only came once a year—and people from every race and corner of the kingdoms had come to celebrate. Vampires in elegant dark attire mingled with werewolves draped in fur-lined cloaks, while Elves and High Humans strolled through the crowds with wine in hand and smiles on their faces.

It was a rare sight: a week of peace in a world that rarely knew it.

Still, Celeste’s eyes kept searching. She wasn’t admiring the decorations or the laughter. She was looking for one person.

Amael.

She had hoped—naively, perhaps—that he might be here, somewhere in the sea of faces. But no matter how many times her gaze swept the crowd, she didn’t see him.

”Hey, Celeste.”

”Yeah?” She turned quickly, startled from her thoughts.

Amelia’s lips curled into a teasing grin. ”Don’t worry. I’m sure your prince in shining armor will show up eventually.”

Celeste flushed lightly, looking away. ”That’s not... I just...” Her voice trailed off.

She just wanted to see him again. Even once.

The talk of royal engagements and political marriages felt meaningless compared to that one wish. As the hours slipped by, the thought of her arranged marriage closing in made her chest feel tighter. She knew she couldn’t stop it—but she still wanted to see Amael before everything changed.

Amelia sighed softly, watching her friend’s distant expression. Having found her own happiness with the man she loved, she couldn’t help but feel pity for Celeste—bound by her bloodline, her status, and the cage of noble expectations.

”Ah—sorry!” Amelia stumbled forward suddenly, bumping into someone’s back.

When the person turned, her words froze in her throat.

It was Percy Moonfang.

”Oh—Senior Percy! I didn’t—” She stopped. Her whole body went rigid.

Percy’s calm yellowish eyes met hers, and in that instant, a sharp pain stabbed through her skull. Amelia staggered, clutching her head as flashes of something—dark, chaotic—rushed through her mind.

Then nothing.

Her breathing quickened. The memory—whatever it was—slipped away like smoke through her fingers.

Ever since John had found her after the Moonfang Capital incident, everything from that day had been a blur. She remembered running, the terror of Behemoth’s presence pressing down on her... and then darkness.

When she woke up, it was over.

She’d tried asking John and the others what had happened, but they refused to tell her. Their faces would stiffen, their voices turn quiet. They said it was better that way. That she didn’t need to remember.

John especially.

He had strictly forbidden anyone from mentioning the truth—that Amelia had been the key reason behind the resurrection of Anasthara Dolphis and Behemoth. He knew her too well. If she ever learned the full story, she’d connect the dots immediately. She’d drown in guilt—over the destruction, the countless lives lost, and most of all... the death of Elizabeth.

Amelia wasn’t stupid. She had suspicions. There were moments when she’d feel an echo in her chest, like her soul knew something her mind refused to recall. But she never pushed too hard. Maybe, deep down, she was afraid of what she’d find.

That might’ve been why she couldn’t quite remember why her whole body tensed up just from standing near Percy Moonfang. Something in her instincts whispered danger—but her mind couldn’t grasp what it was.

”Amelia, you okay?” Celeste’s worried voice broke through her fear.

”A–Ah, yes... sorry,” Amelia forced a small smile, shaking her head as if that could clear the dizziness. When she glanced up again, Percy was already walking ahead, disappearing in the crowd of students.

He didn’t look back.

Percy Moonfang had been assigned to the same group,he was a third year after all. At this point, though, he didn’t seem to care much about academy formalities. His eyes had lost the sharp spark of a student long ago.

The night stretched on, and eventually the festivities wound down. Laughter faded, lanterns dimmed, and the lively streets of Ravenia fell into a peaceful murmur. Citizens and visitors alike returned to their inns or homes.

The students of Trinity Eden Academy made their way toward the grand residence prepared for their stay—an elegant mansion adjacent to Ravenia’s castle. The place was large enough to rival any noble estate, with marble pillars and crystal lamps, though even that wasn’t enough to give every student a private room. They were grouped together by gender, several to a room, with little choice in the matter.

Before long, the mansion grew silent.

Peak moonlight filtered through the tall windows, spilling silver-red streaks across the polished floors. The city outside slept under the crimson-stained sky.

And then, a shadow moved.

A lone figure slipped through the corridors with slow steps.

Percy Moonfang.

He left the residence behind. The roses lining the stone path swayed in the cold night breeze. The castle loomed ahead—massively.

The guards at the gate saw him approaching and immediately stepped aside without a word. They didn’t even bother to ask why a student was wandering around at this hour.

Inside, the air was cold and still. Percy’s boots echoed faintly as he walked through the marble corridors. The heavy doors of the throne room were already open, revealing darkness... and a single figure sitting in the shadows.

Cyril Raven.

He sat upon the throne that once belonged to his grandfather, his posture relaxed, a faint smile playing on his lips.

”Percy,” Cyril smiled. ”So you’ve finally made up your mind. I was starting to think I’d have to deal with you myself. I’m... delighted.”

Percy stopped before the throne. ”As you said, Sancta Vedelia is falling apart. If nothing changes, it’s doomed.”

Cyril leaned back, resting his chin on his knuckles. ”Indeed. Imprisoning my dear grandfather—one of the few reasons other kingdoms dared not cross us—was the height of idiocy. The current Heads of Sancta Vedelia are blinded by their own arrogance and naivety.” His gaze narrowed. ”Including your own family, Percy.”

”Does that change the plan?”

Cyril shook his head, his smirk returning. ”No. Elizabeth’s death was... inconvenient, yes. She hid her true nature well behind the name Selene, but I’ve compensated for that loss. Duncan Tepes is weakened, but the remaining Heads might prove troublesome—especially your uncle.”

A long silence followed.

Cyril tilted his head slightly. ”You’re not hesitating, are you? I trust you’re capable of handling it?”

”My uncle already knows I was involved with Behemoth,” Percy said.

Cyril’s smile faded. ”Did Amelia talk? You should’ve killed her once she’d served her purpose.”

”She didn’t,” Percy replied. ”And she doesn’t remember what happened.”

Even if Amelia had remembered, Percy had already planned contingencies. There was a woman among Behemoth’s ranks—one who could mimic appearances perfectly. He could’ve claimed he’d been framed by someone like that. Lied his way out of suspicion.

It wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

They were already too far along.

Cyril let out a quiet chuckle. ”It doesn’t matter anyway. Behemoth has served its purpose. Though, I’ll admit—I expected at least Jefer Moonfang to die. The man’s far too composed for my liking. He’s been suspicious of me since the beginning.”

”I’ll handle it,” Percy said.

Cyril leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. ”Are you truly capable of it?”

”I know my uncle better than anyone,” Percy replied. ”I know exactly how to do it. He’s already on his way here.”

Cyril’s lips curved into a pleased smile. ”Good. Then free your family from their chains of naivety. They’ve blinded themselves with false ideals—and soon those ideals will drag them all into ruin.”

Percy remained silent.

After a pause, he asked quietly, ”What about Victor and Celeste?”

Cyril’s grin deepened. ”Victor will be dealt with soon enough. For an Apostle, he’s remarkably unfitting. Once Celeste is under my control, I’ll finally be able to draw upon the true power of the Holy Tree.” His voice dropped. ”And once I have that power, the remaining Heads—and even Central Vedelia—will kneel.”

”The Heads aside, there’s someone else. Amael Idea Olphean. No one knows where he is right now, but from what I’ve gathered, he’s... very close to Celeste. Do you really think he’ll stand by and let that marriage happen?” Percy asked.

Cyril smirked. ”Of course he won’t. But sometimes you don’t need to overthink these things.” He rose from the throne. ”Celeste already belongs to me. When the time comes, she’ll obey. He can rage all he wants—it won’t matter.”

Percy said nothing more. He nodded lightly and walked away.

***

Meanwhile, in the Dolphian Kingdom...

Inside the royal palace, Reiner sat slouched in his private room, rubbing at his temples as he sifted through stacks of reports.

Rebuilding a kingdom from ruin was no small task.

Months had passed since the Behemoth attacks and then the bloody Utopian War, but their scars still ran deep—cities in ashes, soldiers buried, and families broken. He’d spent every waking hour trying to restore what little remained, and yet...

His head throbbed with exhaustion.

Everything had been going well—too well—until a certain duo of criminals showed up. Since then, it was as if the gods themselves had decided to test his limits.

He hadn’t cursed enough Celesta for sending those two toward them. One stole his adorable daughter and the other brought only headaches to Sancta Vedelia. There wasn’t even a single Kingdom spared by him.

”If you keep thinking this much, you’ll die of stress before any enemy gets to you,” a light, teasing voice said.

Reiner didn’t look up. ”You’ll understand one day when you have to rule a kingdom yourself.”

”Oh? Who said I don’t?”

That made him pause. He turned his head, eyes narrowing. ”What?”

Anuket floated by the window.

”Well,” she said, ”did you really think I was living inside that anger-filled head of yours all this time? Please, Reiner. That would be dreadfully boring—and rather disgusting.”

Reiner shot her a glare. ”You’ve had far too much free time lately, Goddess.”

”Perhaps,” she replied, her tone airy but her gaze thoughtful. ”But I came because I have a feeling something big is about to happen and I don’t want to miss it.”

Reiner straightened, his expression sharpening. ”What are you talking about? Does this have to do with what you told me before—that we were going to lose something important?”

”Ah, that,” Anuket chuckled softly, her glowing eyes narrowing in amusement. ”Unfortunately, you’ve already lost it.”

Reiner’s brow furrowed. ”Aside from losing towns of my kingdom and countless of my people, I can’t imagine what else you could mean.”

She sighed, her laughter fading into something almost pitying. ”You really are narrow-minded, Reiner. You think only of the past—the disaster that already happened—instead of the future that’s about to unfold.”

Reiner’s fingers tightened around his glass. ”Then tell me?”

”Well, only time will tell,” Anuket said at last, her tone tinged with playful ambiguity. ”Though I do hope I’m wrong... for your sake.”

She smirked faintly, her gaze drifting toward the window.

Her eyes caught on the distant glow beyond the castle walls.

Amael.

There was no doubt in her mind—it was him.

She had seen that same soul, that same light, five hundred years ago. That figure in the Blood Moon War. How or why he stood in this era again, she didn’t know. But she could feel it, clear as day.

Her smile faded, replaced by a quiet whisper of thought.

’Athena... what have you done?’

Even now, centuries later, the name stirred a pang of sorrow in her chest. Athena had been gone for years. Of course, for Gods, especially someone like Athena, death wasn’t necessarily permanent unless their very existence was erased. Still, Anuket missed her. Deeply.

Athena had always been the wise one. The calm voice of reason even among deities driven by pride and power. Yet, she’d faced her final moments without ever speaking of the burden she carried. Whatever had haunted her, she’d chosen to face it alone.

Anuket wasn’t naïve enough to believe there was nothing behind that silence.

And she remembered one peculiar thing—Athena’s frequent, secret contact with Cleenah.

Her lips twitched into a nostalgic grin.

’Harivel and Athena... who would’ve thought those two would ever sit down and actually talk?’

It was almost laughable.

Athena had despised Harivel—the living embodiment of everything she detested. Violence. Chaos. The never-ending thirst for battle. In her youth, Harivel had been the pure incarnation of war itself—fire and destruction given form.

Athena, on the other hand, had been a goddess of strategy and wisdom. She didn’t crave war; she sought to end it. To her, Harivel represented everything primitive about divine nature—impulse without reason, conflict without purpose.

Those memories stretched back over ten thousand years, carrying with them a bittersweet wave of nostalgia. So many gods had come and gone since then, their names erased by time. Yet the past lingered, like echoes of a war that never truly ended.

Anuket sighed softly, her gaze still fixed on the night sky. The faint reflection of the silver moon flickered in her emerald eyes.

Then—

-Thud!

The door burst open, slamming against the wall. The sound snapped Reiner upright and pulled Anuket from her reverie.

”Doria?” Reiner blinked, startled looking at her.

The Dolphian Queen stood in the doorway, her silk robe slightly disheveled, her breath unsteady. Her wide eyes locked onto Reiner’s face—she couldn’t see Anuket floating beside him who was only visible in Reiner’s eyes.

”R–Reiner...” Her voice trembled. Tears welled up in her eyes. ”Adrian... he’s gone.”